Competition Twenty-Three Highly Commended: THE MARKETPLACE by Bev Clark

The women gather at the marketplace. They carry bundles: stone-heavy, over-flowing. They’ve come to barter their woes, peddling packs of guilt, regrets, burdens.

The dim-eyed women babble: how they cultivated succulent shames, propagated torments, ripened heartaches, harvested sorrows: bagged them up like onions and potatoes, ready to bargain for a grain of solace.  Years of suffering, handed over in exchange for one less painful thing.

One has an open casket: a life of torture and abuse. It’s musty: never seen the light of day – now it’s exposed. Any takers? Another unrolls her carpet, embroidered with tears: stained patchwork covers her true story. A leather-skinned woman holds her heavy merchandise close : a cancerous, misshapen bulge of penitence.  She’ll be lucky to get a sniff of a sale.

Infidelities, losses, failures,  all piled high in the morning sun. Hearts grow heavy in the midday swelter, concerned they’ll have to carry back their loads. Another’s cargo would be lighter.

The red-scarfed woman carries a secret. They would churn her out like sewage if they knew.  She trembles for release: even trade her torment for something terminal. Let it fester, eat her up – All she deserves!

The fair-haired girl is a novice. She plies her wares too cheap. Eager to get a sale, she’ll take anything on offer. The leather-skinned woman nears. Women watch, open-mouthed, like hippos taking in water. Eyes transfixed, lips tight as plastic. The girl won’t know the value of desolation. She’ll scoop it up like ice cream on a warm afternoon, won’t comprehend its magnitude –

Too late, they’ve exchanged.

The leather-skinned woman breathes in the lightness of adolescent cravings – she can handle those.  Knowing the girl’s future all too well, the red-scarfed women packs up her burden and heads out for the road.

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